He gazed wistfully at the windows—murmured something to himself—uttered a sigh—and passed on.
His appearance attracted the notice of two gentlemen who were walking arm-in-arm in the same direction; and, as they examined him more closely by the light of an adjacent lamp, one said to the other, "Since his Majesty has taken it into his head to have a black servant, I really think that the very man to suit the purpose is now before us. He is a well-made, good-looking fellow."
"My dear Warren," said the gentleman thus addressed, "you are positively absurd with your notions that you have only to ask in a King's name in order to have. How do you know that this man wants a situation?"
"He looks as if he did, Harral," replied Sir Phillip Warren. "See—he lounges along as if he had no fixed object in view—his clothes do not appear to be any of the best—and his whole demeanour gives me the idea of a lacquey out of place."
"My dear friend," whispered Sir Randolph Harral—who, like his companion, was one of the King's courtiers, "you are really wrong. That man is something far superior to what you conceive him to be: there is even an air of subdued gentility about him——"
"Pooh! pooh! Harral," interrupted Sir Phillip Warren: "you do not understand these matters so well as I do. At all events there is no harm in questioning that fellow—for I should rejoice to be able to fulfil to-night a whim which our royal master only expressed this afternoon when he saw the French Ambassador's splendid black chasseur."
"Well, as you please, Warren," observed Sir Randolph Harral: "but as I do not wish to get myself knocked down for insulting a person of a superior class to what you imagine, I shall leave you to pursue the adventure alone."
This conversation had been carried on so close to the Blackamoor, that, although the two courtiers had spoken in a very low voice, and had not of course intended that their remarks should be overheard, yet scarcely a word had escaped his ears. Affecting, however, all the time to continue his lounging, listless walk, he took no apparent notice of the gentlemen behind him, and even pretended to start with surprise when Sir Phillip Warren—Sir Randolph Harral having re-entered Carlton House—tapped him on the shoulder.
"My good man," said the courtier, in a patronising fashion, "I wish to have a few moments' conversation with you."
"Certainly, sir," exclaimed the Blackamoor, touching his hat just like a lacquey, and assuming the tone and manner of one.